Don’t be buffaloed it’s not Pancho Villa he’s dead
Just have’n a fling before what lies ahead
I respect Soup Creek and its laws
Although some have their flaws
There are no guns allowed where I am headed
Anaya’s Steak House, sure like the ring to that
A place of my own, where I’m no one’s door mat
On my way to the bordello
And then soon the rodeo
Mis campanero’s, I’m bringing my charro hat!
Pancho Villa, Bonnie & Clyde
Billy the Kid, Green Men in Pants
Killers, Murdurers, Abusers
Criminals on the Run
Glorified by the bully hordes
Reflections of watery graves ~
These Earthly Lords
Slimy gloppy corn smut
Smeared on a tortilla
Tastes like a monkey's butt
Thank you, Pancho Villa.
Crows' hearts in chili sauce
Beer-battered crickets
Bad luck and double-cross
Ten dollar tickets.
Bar fight in El Dorado
Devil on the trail
Mule train in Colorado
Bandits of the rail.
Vampires and gunslingers
Snakes off the grill
Harlots, saloon keepers,
Ghosts of Boot Hill.
Some say that he was the "Robin Hood" for the poor in Old Mexico
Others say he was a tequila drinking horse thief, murderer to boot
One night on my great grand father's ranch in New Mexico, Villa stole their horses
Nationalist;
He died for equality
May be rest in peace